A Raging Election
by starshards
Summary: Matthew wishes to discuss a personal matter, and, much to Arthur's horror the person that he wants to discuss it with is -him-. Canada/ England


_"Raging election" _was **meltedpeep** on LJ's idea. I just took it and ran.

* * *

Arthur spat out his tea.

It was incredibly undignified for a man of his stature, and he had to hurriedly rifle through his pockets for his handkerchief in order to wipe away what had dribbled down his chin. When he had managed to regain at least some shred of dignity, he turned his attention back to the young man whom he looked upon still as his beloved, darling baby.

'Excuse me?' he said incredulously.

Matthew stared at him, wondering if he had somehow subconsciously slipped into speaking French. 'I had a raging election,' he repeated.

Arthur paled. There were some things that he really, _really_ didn't want to know. Oh Christ did that mean that Matthew wanted to talk with him about it? Much as he detested Francis, he had honestly thought that he had taught Matthew _more_ than he needed to know about these sorts of things.

'O-oh?' Arthur asked. He was English. English people didn't talk about these sorts of things, _especially_ with parental- figures. It was touching that Matthew felt close enough to discuss this openly with him, but to say that he was horrified was an understatement.

'Yeah, it came a bit prematurely, but I think that everyone was satisfied with the result,' Matthew smiled.

Arthur balked. _Hecouldn'tdealwiththishecouldn'tdealwiththishecouldn't-_ 'E- everyone?' he asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

'Yeah… Arthur are you alright? You seem a little, uh, freaked out,' Matthew looked both worried and confused. Since when was it strange for them to talk about politics? Usually Arthur couldn't get enough of the stuff.

'Of course,' Arthur replied, sounding anything _but_ okay. 'You know me, forward-thinking and all that... I'm- I'm really glad that you still feel like you can talk to me about these things.'

'Well, I _did_ have to get your Governor General involved,' Matthew pointed out.

_What?_ Arthur fumed. That _bitch_! He'd trusted her to keep an eye on Matthew, and to let him know how he was getting on, and now he found out that she was corrupting his little Mattie? He was _appalled!_

He slammed his fists down on the table, startling the other man. 'Matthew, be honest with me. Did she force you into doing anything that you didn't want to?'

Matthew was beginning to look worried for Arthur's state of mind, but he answered nonetheless. 'Of course not, I only asked her out of formality, it's not like she has any _power_ over me. I mean, Arthur, the Queen doesn't really have any power over you any more; it's even less the case for me.' Matthew looked slightly wounded then. 'I thought you'd like it that Harper won.'

'Harper?' Arthur growled. Who was this Harper, and what had he done to his Matthew? 'What exactly did he win?' he asked, sounding as dangerous as a man who had just found out the name of the man who'd knocked his teenage daughter up.

'My elections!' Matthew shot back, looking part shocked, part hurt, and part offended. God! Had Arthur not listened to a _word_ that he'd said? 'He's my Prime Minister, Arthur, how could you not know that?'

Ele- Oh.

_Oh_.

'Oh! Your _elections_! You had an _election_, oh, right. Oh thank _God_ for that,' Arthur babbled once realisation and relief had hit him like a double-decker bus to the face. 'She dissolved parliament and oh… oh you're right, _that_ Harper. Right, okay. I got it.'

'…What on _Earth_ did you _think_ I was talking about?' Matthew asked. His voice reflected his bewilderment. Part of him wondered if Arthur was high on something- he _had_ spent most of the nineteenth century doped up on heroin, after all.

Arthur laughed nervously and flailed his hands around momentarily. 'It doesn't matter. Do you want some cake? I'll go and get you some cake.' With that he practically leapt out of his chair and walked briskly back into the house.

Matthew watched him leave with wide eyes and a slack jaw. After a few moments, he forced his confusion back, happily repressing the memory to mull over later. He'd been doing it for two hundred years, so one more time wasn't going to hurt.

Still though, he had to wonder… between Arthur and Francis it really was an absolute _miracle_ that he'd ended up being so _normal_.

* * *


End file.
